Bricks

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who grew up as a farmers daughter in the middle of the plains. Her childhood was plain, uneventful, even boring to some. She didn't know it at the time. It was just the way things were. Emotions were not to be dealt with openly. Basic skills like finances or how to deal with an intense disagreement were taboo to discuss. She didn't understand it would be her emotional undoing until it was too late.

Then the little girl got married to the boy next door. This event happened because she didn't trust herself. She didn't trust her ability to stand on her own two feet and face life. She feared being by herself. It was easier to hide behind a false exterior than show who she really was. She lived like this for 17 years. It almost killed her. The little girl became a fat woman to further wrap herself in protection from living her life. Her walls were high and wide. It was comfortable for the little girl.

Then the facade went away. The little girl was left alone with her turmoil. She found a new friend who made her feel wonderful about herself. This emotion was a foreign concept. It was scary, like standing on the edge of the Grand canyon. She began to feel like she could take down a few bricks from the wall. The fort around her began to crumble, and she welcomed it. She trusted. She hoped.

But there was still the inability to deal with little (or big) things. It bit her on the butt regularly. At times the little girl felt like she was living with a pitbull in the shadows, waiting to lock its jaws over the littlest things. She began to fear again.

Now the little girl is putting up the bricks again. Every promise made and broken is another brick. It is as it was. No windows in these walls.

Now the little girl has a fort to hide in again. This one is thicker than before. It is different this time. Now the little girl knew what it was like to live without the walls and wants to be free, as before. She now lives in a self imposed prison. This time it is not comfortable. This time she knows the tenuous edge of love/hope/trust. She wants all of it and more to be restored.

But, alas, the little girl waits. She waits for that glimmer announcing she can trust. She waits for that flicker of hope in the future.

She waits, counting her bricks.